


Muse

by Insomniacghostie



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Background Relationships, Crush at First Sight, M/M, Trans Character, Trans Persona 5 Protagonist, au where akira models instead, mentions of abuse, nonsexual stripping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:20:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25137571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Insomniacghostie/pseuds/Insomniacghostie
Summary: AU: When Yusuke first sees Akira, he realizes Ann was not meant to be his muse but his guide to this dark eyed mystery who seems to know a lot more about Madarame than he should.Trans!Akira and it will be brought up but I don't wanna write transphobia so it aint here don't worry.
Relationships: Kitagawa Yusuke/Kurusu Akira, Kitagawa Yusuke/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 13
Kudos: 102





	1. "I want you to model for me."

**Author's Note:**

> To set this us, I did borrow really heavily from Yusuke's initial scenes with a lot more insight into his character. I don't think this will be an entire game spanning fic like Let's Make A Deal, but more focus on the start of Akira and Yusuke's interactions and probably bits through the game. I hope you enjoy!

Yusuke could see her up ahead on the stairs. He had not meant to follow her, but his feet moved on their own when she left his line of sight-- he had even thrown himself out of his sensei’s car to catch another glimpse of this goddess on Earth. The sunlight caught her golden curls, an unusual sight in Japan but one that certainly suited her. She took confident steps, hesitating as she looked over her shoulder, her blue eyes passing over him, and then walking quicker.

He nearly ran to keep up. She stood alone out in the middle of the square, looking down at her phone. Finally, his chance to ask! He raised a hand to tap her shoulder, and found a wall of teenage boy blocking his way.

One looked like a delinquent, the kind that did the terrible graffiti art a couple of streets from the altier. His hair was also blonde, but not the natural ashy blonde of the beautiful girl. It was an unnaturally bright yellow, cut short but still spiking all over. He hunched himself over from his full height, and looked at Yusuke with what was meant to be an intimidating look. Yusuke thought he just looked fussy.

The other boy just seemed plain. He stood straight, hand resting on his bag strap. His hair was curly and messy, and covered his eyes behind thick rimmed glasses. Yusuke would hardly have given him a second chance, but the sun stopped creating a glare on his lenses and the most stunning dark eyes looked at him. While the other teen looked like a delinquent, for a moment Yusuke felt a flash of fear over the plain one. The look in his eyes was cold, and somehow he felt that would be the one who could hurt him.

Suddenly, his mouth felt dry. How could he have thought this devil plain, even for a second? He seemed unassuming, but suddenly, even the muse who initially garnered his interest felt unimportant next to him. Yusuke stared at him openly, drinking in every detail while the stranger frowned and furrowed his thin brows in confusion.

“... Are you sure this is the guy?” the blonde one asked the girl, who glared at him. “Or are you just being self conscious?”

“Hey! I’m not that self conscious!” she snapped back. Yusuke blinked.

“Is there something you want?” he cut in as they started to bicker, confused as to what the two were talking about. He wasn’t interested in them. The girl pushed passed them and pointed in his face. He stared at her finger, blinking in confusion.

“I should be asking you that! You were the one stalking me!” she yelled. Yusuke looked at her with wide eyes. Stalking was a little strong-- he was following an inspiration, nothing so vulgar as stalking. He brushed back his hair and shook his head.

“Stalking? That’s outrageous,” he said simply. It just made her more angry, and she clenched her fists at her fists at her side while she continued to yell her accusations before finally asking why he was following her. Yusuke rather wished she wouldn’t be so loud-- it was ruining her angelic image. He looked down, brows furrowing. Is that really how it looked…?

“Well, that’s because…” he started, struggling to figure out how to explain himself. He was certainly no criminal or creep, merely an artist seeking out his muse. He wasn’t sure they would understand-- the lot of them looked more and more uncouth by the moment. Even the beautiful girl. Well, not the mysterious boy to her side. He merely looked amused at the turn in events.

“I want you to model for me,” he said, turning directly to the glasses wearing boy. His brows shot up in silent surprise while the other two loudly expressed their shock.

“Wait, were you stalking me just to talk to him?!” the girl asked, no longer holding his attention despite her lovely aesthetic. The more she yelled, the less Yusuke understood why he felt drawn to her to begin with. Perhaps the gods of art were leading him to this black haired boy though her.

“Yusuke!” called out a familiar voice. He turned to see his sensei’s car pulled up to the curb. Madarame was smiling genially through the open window.

“Goodness, I had wondered why you left the car in such a hurry,” he said, looking indulgently at his protege. “So this is where your passion led.”

“Ah, my apologies, sensei…” Yusuke said, bowing towards his mentor and trying not to flush under his amused laughter. The three teens looked on, more confused than angry. Right, he needed to explain.

“My name is Yusuke Kitigawa. I am Madarame-sensei’s pupil. I saw you from afar and wished to ask for you to model for me,” he explained. The blonde boy looked confused still, but the beautiful girl looked shocked. The black haired guy stared coolly at Madarame, as if trying to see beneath his gentle expression. Then, he nodded once.

“It would be an honor, Kitagawa-san. I’m Akira Kurusu, let’s exchange contact info,” he offered, pulling out his cellphone. Yusuke was startled by the acceptance, and fumbled to pull out his own device. The info exchanged, Yusuke breathed a sigh of relief.

“Please, allow me to thank you. Here are some tickets to Madarame-sensei’s exhibition. He is the one training me, so you might have an idea of the heights to which I strive,” he said, pulling out some tickets. Begrudgingly, he included one for the rude boy. They appeared to all be friends, after all. Akira gently accepted them with a smile, and Yusuke excused himself to return to his sensei’s car.

“So, which one was it?” Madarame asked eventually, and Yusuke kept his eyes on his clasped hands. 

“The angel with the long curls. I’ve never seen anyone like her outside of a painting. She moved so fluidly,” he said, starting to ramble but biting his tongue. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t want to admit that Akira had caught his attention far more as soon as he had seen him, but he felt it best to keep that closer to his chest. His sensei made a noncommittal sound, and they continued on. Just before they reached their destination, Madarame turned to look out the window.

“I hope you don’t fail me,” he said noncommittally. Yusuke shrank further into his seat.

He wouldn’t. He could not allow himself to fail again.

\--

Yusuke spotted Akira the moment he arrived, and he cut across the crowd to greet him with an excited smile.

“You came!” he enthused, then noticed the others. Blondie looked even more like a thug outside of his school uniform, and the girl still looked quite radiant. Yusuke didn’t understand how Akira made his plain shirt and blazer look work so well for him, but his eyes followed the lines of his form easily with the outfit. He smiled warmly at Akira, then nodded politely to his friends.

“...And you as well,” he finally said to the other two. It pissed off Blondie instantly, which he should have expected. The girl almost looked relieved that his attention wasn’t on her.

“Yeah, well, what did ya expect? You left us those tickets!” he loudly grumbled, and Yusuke shook his head with disgust. Uncouth, the lot of them, if they kept that vulgar boy around. Oh well, he had given them the tickets, he couldn’t revoke it after they were already at the exhibit. He mumbled a reminder for them to be polite before gesturing to Akira.

“Come along. I’ll show you around. I’d like to speak more about the picture I’d like to paint as well,” he said, leading him further into the gallery while the two teens watched on. Blondie looked angry and uncomfortable, but the beautiful girl nudged him and started to lead him further in.  
Yusuke led Akira through the gallery, slowing when he paused to look at a particular piece. He gazed intently at it, turning his head this way and that. It was a golden field of rice just beyond a hill. Branches of a tree framed the top of the painting. It was an older piece, but Yusuke remembered exactly which student had painted it. He also remembered exactly what happened to him.

“I like this one, but I don’t really know a lot about art,” Akira admitted, smiling sheepishly while his eyes still took in the landscape. Yusuke shook his head, clearing those depressing thoughts and focusing again on him. He needed to pay attention if he wanted him to model for him.

“That is a shame, but acceptable. You seem to appreciate it nonetheless,” he said, and he grinned brightly at him before they moved on to more pieces.Yusuke was surprised by the lightness in his heart at the sight. Akira took the time to look at each of them, though he admittedly lacked the language to really discuss them well. Still, seeing his even mild appreciation gave Yusuke hope that he would be his muse. When he commented on the myriad of styles, he smiled despite the stabbing pain in his heart.

“Yes, most artists choose to focus on a single style. But Sensei has created all of this by himself. He’s special,” he said. It was a repetition of what he had been saying his whole life. It was not as if Madarame had not created before. He was just… in a slump. He had still instructed every painter who had put the brush to canvas, his touch was still there. He forced himself to believe it, even if the words tasted bitter on his tongue.

Akira gave him a strangely seeking look, and played with a curl of hair.

“Really?” he asked, but something darker was hinted in his tone. Yusuke was not a very socially perceptive young man, one of his biggest flaws, but even he could tell that Akira did not really believe him, and he wasn’t sure why, or what that meant. Before he could respond, he heard Madarame himself approach with a jovial greeting. He wondered if he had heard what they were just talking about, and felt tense with worry.

“Ah, the young man from yesterday. Are you enjoying the exhibit?” he asked kindly, giving Akira a soft smile. He seemed to return it, but it was sharper, more threatening than anything gentle. Yusuke was fascinated by his apparent distrust of his sensei. He knew Akira wasn’t his pupil by any means, so he had no reason to look at Madarame with such a cold look. The two conversed about the gallery, but Madarame did not seem to notice Akira’s disdain. He did, however, give Yusuke a significant look before he parted.

Yusuke figured he had seen the girl somewhere in the gallery, and yet there Yusuke was with some boy instead of his supposed muse. He flushed, but it was an issue he could handle later.

“Oh, this is stunning,” Akira breathed. Yusuke looked up to see his own work looking down at him. Akira’s dark eyes quickly took iin every frustrated brushstroke of the abstract sky. Yusuke could hardly bear to look at the thing. It was painted quickly, his mentor demanding over his shoulder utter perfection. He--

“I’m getting some anger here? I know the colors are bright and cheerful but… I don’t know. It’s something forceful,” Akira continued. Yusuke felt gutted that the young man could pick up on those emotions so easily. He looked at Yusuke with an odd expression.

“I wouldn’t expect Madarame to be capable of painting this,” he said. 

‘He didn’t,’ Yusuke thought bitterly. Akira didn’t press on his silence, and looked back towards the painting with a determined expression. Before Yusuke could blink, Akira hooked their arms together and pulled him away.

“There are more pieces than this one. Come on, let’s go,” he said, walking away and pulling Yusuke with him. The artist was fine letting him take the lead for the moment, while he became lost in his thoughts. It was not the first time his piece had been included in one of Madarame’s exhibitions, but to hear the praise given to another in person… It hurt far more than he ever anticipated.

They looked at a few more pieces, but Yusuke’s good mood was very well gone. Akira seemed to notice, and stopped at the entrance. 

“Thank you for showing me around today. I really am excited to model for you, Kitagawa-san,” Akira told him, smiling genuinely. Yusuke’s chest clenched at the sight of the beautiful devil gracing him with a smile. He bit back a delighted sigh at his reiteration of his intention to model. Truly, he was a lucky artist. He watched Akira leave, adjusting his bag as he did, and only looked away from the entrance when he was long gone.

His contemplation was interrupted by his sensei.

“Ah, Yusuke!,” his mentor greeted, with his same jovial smile. Yusuke bowed to him in greeting, his stomach twisting inside. Why didn’t he focus on his patrons? It was opening day, after all.

“I saw that young man was very taken with that piece you contributed. You must be proud,” he started, and all Yusuke could do was nod. Madarame continued, unaware or uncaring about his protoge’s discomfort.

“Though, I thought that young woman was who you had your eye on?” he asked, and Yusuke held back a flinch while he hid his face behind his longer hair.

“...that’s… She wasn’t interested, but her friend was. He is… aesthetically acceptable, so I will make it work,” he said. Lying again to his mentor. Madarame stared at him for a long moment, and Yusuke was sure he could see into his heart, see how Akira had made his chest tight and his breathing shallow, but he only shrugged.

“As long as you complete the painting, it does not matter who or what your subject is. Do a good job on it, Yusuke,” Madarame said before encouraging him to go home while he finished up opening day. Yusuke took the out, glad to be out from under his constant gaze and pressure. He tried to ignore the gnawing feeling that he didn’t want Madarame to get his hands on what he would create with Akira.

\--

He was shocked when Akira arrived at his home the next day. He was less shocked that his ever present friends were with him. Were they joined at the hip? Yusuke ignored his annoyance over the blonde one, Ryuji, he learned, and focused on trying to invite Akira in to model. 

“Is Madarame abusing you?” Ryuji bluntly asked, and Yusuke reeled as if slapped. Ann yelled at him over his tactics, but he saw Akira looking at him with that searching look. Yusuke flushed under his gaze, and resolutely shook his head.

“I don’t know where you heard such a thing, but Sensei has only ever treated me with kindness! He allows me to live here in his atelier, he teaches me all he knows!” he defended fiercely, feeling his rage building within. He owed everything to Madarame! How dare they question his kindness in taking him in! That he gave his finished works to him wasn't abuse, it was doing his fair share.

“... So he doesn’t take your art as his own?” Akira asked softly. Yusuke blinked rapidly at him. Somehow, his question cut through him in a way Ryuji’s crude accusation could not. His gentle eyes looked at him knowingly, but no one knew about that. Any previous student was ‘encouraged’ into silence. His silence seemed to answer the question well enough, and the others deflated.

“Yusuke? What’s going on, I thought I heard yelling,” Madarame asked from further in the shack. He came onto the scene and saw who was there, and put on that same smile for the public. Yusuke froze, but knew he couldn’t lie. There was no way he hadn’t heard what he yelled.

“They accused you of abusing me, and I will not stand for such slander,” Yusuke explained, biting his tongue from pointing out that they somehow knew about the borrowed paintings. Madarame looked at them, and shrugged.

“They are worried about their friend, Yusuke. I encourage you to forgive them for their ignorance,” he told him. They weren’t a threat, it seemed. Save face. Yusuke nodded miserably, and watched Madarame retreat back inside.

“... I think it best if you leave today. Kurusu-san, I am still interested in having you model for me. However, I will not stand for any more baseless accusations against my sensei. Please, contact me if you wish to come model,” he said, bowing politely and stepping back through the doorway. Ryuji went to say something, but Ann sharply elbowed his gut.

“You’re right, I’m sorry-- We saw some rumors online and got worried about you since you live here and all,” she said, a nervous affectation on her voice. Akira looked at him for a long moment, searching for something, before blinking and giving him a small smile. Yusuke felt like the moment lasted forever as he stared into Akira's eyes. What hidden depths! Just looking at him felt like trying to stare through fog. He tried to clear the thought.

They left together, Ryuji resuming yelling something once they were across the road. Yusuke shut the door and sighed. Maybe he should consider looking for an easier muse.

\--

A few days later, Yusuke was ecstatic to receive a message from Akira about wanting to model. He quickly cleaned up his studio space and set up a chair in a perfect position from his easel and the window-- after school would have excellent lighting. When he heard the knock at the door, he dashed to answer. Madarame was out, and he was excited to get to work without his eyes on him. Not that he minded the criticism, really, but it was nice to work uninhibited.

Akira rang the bell and Yusuke rushed to let him in and get him settled. He was more than a little relieved that he was alone. He was starting to wonder if the trio was physically able to exist apart. 

He led his model into the studio he had set up, where he knew he had excellent lighting and a chair waiting in front of his canvas and paints. Akira took in the sights without comment before setting his bag near the sliding door and taking his seat.

"I've never done this before, so you'll need to guide me," he admitted, glancing up at Yusuke, who remained standing. The playful brightness of his dark eyes beneath beautiful lashes made Yusuke freeze in place. Akira's lips formed a smirk, and he lounged back in the chair.

"Yusuke? Aren't you going to paint?" He asked, and the artist startled out of his fascination with Akira's face.

"Right, of course…." He muttered, taking his own seat and directing Akira to get comfortable and stay still. Once his model stopped fidgeting, Yusuke started his sketch and fell into an artistic trance. All sense of everything outside of Akira's form faded away, until he heard and noticed nothing.

Akira stared at Yusuke while he painted, a neutral look on his face while he considered the young artist at work. Yusuke was tense and frequently seemed nervous or on edge, particularly when Madarame was around. And yet, he fervently denied any possible wrongdoings of his mentor. Akira understood to a degree-- no one on the volleyball team wanted to admit anything was wrong with Kamoshida, either. There was almost a comfort in maintaining the status quo. After all, who knew what could happen in the aftermath of a monster losing his safety of shadows?

Akira shook off those thoughts, and again looked at Yusuke. Not at a potential Madarame victim (and the man had many victims) but as a young man of his age. He was quite pretty, but seemed unaware or unaffected over his sharp angles and long lashes. His nearly blue hair was longer than most boys, and fell into his face without him seeming to notice. Hmm, quite dedicated then.

"Kitagawa-kun?" Akira asked in a whisper. While he had actually been excited to model for Yusuke, he still had a mission. And seeing as Ryuji's brashness just made him angry, it fell to Akira.

But Yusuke didn't answer or look up. Not even a grunt of acknowledgement. Akira tried again to no avail.

"... Yusuke?" He tried, the intimate name tasting strange in his mouth. But he still didn't answer. Without moving, Akira called for Morgana 

"Man, that guy is focused… I'm going to slip out and explore since Madarame isn't around," the cat said, poking his head out of Akira's bag. The young man was surprised Morgana had stayed in there so long without saying anything, but since Yusuke seemed well and truly out of it, there seemed no harm.

"Be careful, I have no idea how long he'll be like this. Or when that guy will return," Akira instructed, careful not to mention Madarame in a way Yusuke could understand and possibly be startled by. Morgana chirped an assurance at him and carefully pawed open the door. Akira hoped he would find something good.

An hour passed, and Morgana returned. He had seen a weirdly fancy door with a lock, but didn't have a good enough reason to pry it open-- as a cat, there was no way he would be able to replace the lock once he undid it. Akira agreed to leave it for the moment. Otherwise, there wasn't anything suspicious to see. There was another studio for painting, filled with some in progress pieces that Morgana assumed was Madarame's, a small kitchen, and few bedrooms. Only two were furnished, sparsely, the others locked or empty. Not surprising, as Yusuke was the only current pupil of Madarame.

Another hour passed, and Akira was trying not to feel bored. After so many afternoons spent in life-or-death battles against fantasy creatures in someone's unconscious mind, it was difficult to manage. He tried not to fidget, but even a Phantom Thief couldn't be expected to have perfect patience.

Meanwhile, Yusuke started for the third time because he kept getting distracted by Akira. Not him talking, or fidgeting, but the very idea of him. The mysterious smiles and looks he had given Yusuke over their short span of interactions, the way he seemed to know beyond a doubt about Madarame's previous pupils. Yusuke couldn't help but wonder what it possibly meant to him to have it confirmed, what he would even do with the information.

He blinked again, and realized that all his work had just been scribbles. He frowned and put down his paintbrush-- he was too distracted to paint well.

"Sorry…. I don't think this is going to work today. It's terrible," he said, and Akira looked at him in surprise.

"Oh, sorry… I'm not a great model, am I?" He asked, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head. Yusuke was quick to shake his head.

"Not at all! You're wonderful! I'm just finding myself unable to focus," he explained, holding his head in his hands. He felt terrible for making Akira feel insecure, yet was unsure how to resolve his own distracted mind enough to truly reassure him.

"I'm still sorry," Akira said, though Yusuke didn't look up. The curly haired teen stretched out his legs and sighed.

"I need to be honest: I didn't just come here to model for you," he admitted, and Yusuke looked up. He didn't seem terribly surprised, but was on guard. He frowned and stood as well.

"Let me guess, you came to accuse Madarame-sensei again?" He asked, scoffing with a bitter laugh. Akira gave a sharp nod.

"Nakanohara asked me to make sure you were okay," he said, and Yusuke gasped hard. Nakanohara was trying to check in on him? After everything? He wasn't sure how to feel about that reveal, and held his arms around his chest.

".... I see. Then, you can let him know I'm fine. We have… different circumstances," Yusuke responded, his words bitter on his tongue. It wasn't really true. Just because Madarame had taken him in as a son, did not mean Yusuke had any real level of protection if his loyalty waned, or his skills suffered. Nakanohara had learned that lesson hard.

Akira didn't buy it for a second. Yusuke was typically terrible at reading anyone, but for some reason Akira felt like an open book to him. His smile faded into sadness, and he played with a curl-- a nervous tick?

"Are you? Tell me, when this painting is done, will you get to display it under your name?" Akira asked, and Yusuke fell silent. He didn't want to lie to such a direct question, but it seemed Akira already knew what his answer would be. He sighed.

"Did you ever hear about Shujin Academy?" He asked, throwing Yusuke off with the new direction of the conversation. He nodded slowly, brows furrowed with thought.

"Er, I believe so? There was a recently a scandal involving the gym teacher, I think," he answered. He wasn't in the habit of keeping up with the gossip parts of the news…. Or any recent events. His grades in history, however, were superb.

"He was abusing us," Akira said simply, and Yusuke's eyes widened. Well, that did help explain why he was so interested in confirming if Yusuke was going through something similar. He felt uncomfortable with the revelation, and took a step away.

"I.. I am sorry to hear that. Please, be assured that Madarame is not hurting me. He does care about me, he takes care of me," Yusuke responded, trying to make Akira understand. He sounded pleading to his own ears. When Akira put a comforting hand on his shoulder, he flinched back at the electric feeling of it. 

"Don't! Just… stop making me try to defend Madarame. If you're going to keep bringing it up, don't bother coming back," he yelled, lashing out from the stress of being found out and the unsure feeling bubbling in his chest. Akira quickly retracted his hand and widened his eyes.

"I'm sorry to push you," he started, but Yusuke shook his head.

"No, no you are not," he sighed, and despite his reluctance and fear, he couldn't make himself feel upset with Akira for his persistence. Yet, he knew he needed it to end. Eventually Madarame would figure out what Akira managed to find out, and Yusuke didn't want to consider those consequences. He needed to find a way to drive Akira away, somehow. For both of their sakes.

"If you are truly sorry, make it up to me," he said, speaking faster than he could think. Akira looked at him with interest.

"I will allow you back to model under two conditions. First, you will not mention my sensei or anything you think he may be doing. Second… I wish to paint you nude," Yusuke said, blushing as he spoke. He fought to maintain a stern face. He was an artist, he had done many life drawing classes. The nude form was no grand mystery to him…. But Akira was. It was a test, an easy out, something outlandish to make him run off.

"I'll consider it," Akira said instead. He didn't smile or smirk, but looked very serious. His eyes met Yusuke's and the artist couldn't blink or look away from the intense gaze. 

"In the meantime, take care of yourself. I'll see you again," Akira told him before taking his bag and departing.

Yusuke sat down in the chair Akira had vacated, and remained in shock long after he heard the front door close. 

Then, he let loose some deep sounding chuckles. Whatever mess he had gotten himself tangled into, he knew he desperately hoped Akira would text him again.


	2. "This is going to be a masterpiece."

Days passed with increasing agony as Yusuke became more and more convinced that he had truly scared Akira off by demanding he model nude. At the time, it had made sense to ask, but as time crept by without a message, he began to reconsider. Would Akira think him some sort of pervert or cretin? He had looked further into Shujin, and the extent of Kamoshida’s cruelty was disgusting. Yusuke desperately hoped Akira didn’t put them in the same boat. 

Truthfully, he was beginning to give up hope of the mysterious Akira ever contacting him again when his phone buzzed with a new message. Yusuke didn’t have the capacity to be embarrassed over how quickly he opened the message, a delighted smile spreading wide across his face. Akira had finally reached out.

_Akira Kurusu: hey are you still willing to have me model?_

_Akira Kurusu: because I have time today if you’re free_

_Akira Kurusu: and dont worry, i remember the conditions ;)_

Yusuke’s breath caught in his throat as his heart leapt at the message. He was prepared to fully walk back his demands, anything to see him again, but for him to acknowledge and seemingly embrace them… He felt a funny feeling in his gut that he cautiously attributed to excitement. Yusuke quickly sent back an affirmative reply, hoping he didn’t sound desperate, and got to work setting up the workspace again. He brought back out his canvas, half sketched, and covered it back up. He would need to start fresh, if Akira would be modeling bare. 

Far too quickly, the doorbell rang and Yusuke rushed to answer it, half afraid Akira would change his mind halfway to the door. He threw the door open, trying and failing to hide his panting breaths from the burst of exercise. Akira grinned at him and hid it quickly behind his hand as he pushed up his glasses.

“Excited?” Akira asked, amusement coloring his tone, and Yusuke flushed a deep red.

“Y-yes, this is going to be a masterpiece,” he managed to get out, breath gone for an entirely different reason. Akira gave him another of those inscrutable looks that left Yusuke confused and striving to appear put together. He led Akira inside, ignoring the nervous pounding of his heart while he forced his shoulders back and head high. He was a proud artist, after all, and had no reason to be nervous. So what if Akira was handsome and he spent far too much time thinking about him? It would not affect his painting.

They reached the workspace and Yusuke stood awkwardly by his canvas while Akira set down his bag by the door, cracked open to keep the airflow going in the old shack. It hadn’t yet reached summer heights, but it could get incredibly stuffy even in the spring. His jacket joined the bag, then Akira turned back to him. Yusuke realized he had been staring without art in mind and looked quickly away, scrambling to fiddle with his painting set up even though he already had it exactly how he wanted it.

“So, do I strip down here, or is there somewhere I could go for privacy?” Akira asked, and Yusuke blinked rapidly. Somehow, the thought of seeing Akira take off his clothes made him far more flustered than any previous model ever had. Akira merely watched his reaction with his head tilted, waiting for a response.

“Whatever would make you more comfortable. There is a bathroom down the hall if you prefer. Also, I should let you know Sensei will be home in around a half hour or so,” he finally said, swallowing down the errant thought that he hoped Akira would choose to stay in the room. Even with that private wish, Yusuke still felt entirely overwhelmed when Akira shrugged and pulled off his turtleneck. Beneath was a skintight white tank top made of a material Yusuke wasn’t familiar with.

Akira raised an eyebrow at him, and defiantly stood with his arms crossed over his chest. His dark eyes went cold for a moment, something Yusuke wasn’t used to having directed at himself. He swallowed roughly.

“Will my being trans be a problem?” he asked, and Yusuke once again felt off footed. He wasn’t wholly ignorant of the concept of being transgender, despite being essentially closed off from most of the world. However, he had never knowingly met someone who was transgender. He knew it didn’t matter: his admiration of Akira was not due to any femininity, but his mystery and hint of danger. He was a man, no matter what was beneath his clothes. He shook his head at once, looking Akira in the eye as he stared him down.

“Not at all. What lies beneath your clothes, the vulnerability you choose to bear, is beautiful no matter what. It’s still you,” he said, blushing. Akira smiled softly, and with a faint blush tossed the sweater aside. He took a step closer to Yusuke, who fought the urge to step back, and another to seal the distance between them.

“Do you promise to make me look extra manly?” he asked, and Yusuke wanted to promise him anything when Akira looked at him with that open, dark look. He found himself nodding, and Akira grinned, backing off. He looked back at the slightly open door and his good mood faded.

“Is there anywhere more… private? I trust you, but I’m a little nervous about your sensei coming in,” Akira said, wrapping his arms over his chest. 

“Not truly. None of the rooms lock,” Yusuke told him, and Akira looked at him with surprise, and more than a little knowing. 

“None at all?” he asked, and Yusuke faltered. He really was not good at lying.

“Well, there is a storage room, but--” 

“Oh, would it have older pieces in it? Can we go in there? I won’t fidget as much if I feel safer,” Akira said, face bright, and Yusuke found it hard to say no, though he had to.

“M-Madarame has the key, I wouldn’t even be able to get in there,” he decided on, and felt his heart leap again at the mischievous grin Akira gave him. His eyes glittered dangerously, and Yusuke felt helpless to stop him as he turned towards the door. Akira turned back towards him, biting his bottom lip in a way that Yusuke wanted to capture in a thousand different ways. It was utterly decadent, such a smooth motion and far too much to look at directly. He nearly missed when Akira opened his mouth to speak again.

“That won’t be a problem. Come on, bring your sketchbook,” he said, and walked out of the room and further into the atelier. Yusuke blinked away his surprise and rushed to follow Akira, who was already turning down the end of the hall. His heart started to beat wildly. He had to get Akira back to the work room.

“W-wait!” he called out, scrambling to stop him. Madarame-sensei would be _pissed_ if they broke into the old storage room-- for whatever reason, he was deeply protective of it and refused to allow any student inside. He didn’t even want anyone to look at the, admittedly gaudy, door. Madarame had told him a previous student had painted it and sentimentality kept him from replacing it. Privately, Yusuke had wondered what personal thing had to be kept in the room to warrant such secrecy.

Those thoughts were interrupted by Akira’s footsteps sounding from the stairs, and Yusuke followed behind. 

“Please, come back down!” he begged, but Akira just turned and winked at him before continuing down the upper hall. He hastened his steps and reached the landing, turning the corner at the end just as he heard the click of the lock being undone. He turned and saw Akira holding it with an amused expression.

“That was easy,” he quipped, and Yusuke frowned, reaching the highest amount of stress he had ever been under. Everything was escalating and he didn’t know what to do.

“Please, let’s go back! I’ll put a do not disturb sign up or something, we really cannot--”

“Yusuke? Is that you upstairs?” Madarame called out. In the chase, neither had noticed the front door had opened, and Madarame had arrived early. Akira’s eyes flickered again with mischief as Yusuke began to truly panic. The anxiety increased as Madarame approached the stairs, and Akira grabbed him around his waist and dragged him through the door.

“Hn!” he grunted as they nearly tripped over each other, and Madarame came up to see the door wide open, and Akira and Yusuke inside.

“Yusuke! What are you doing in here?!” he demanded, and Yusuke tried desperately to come up with a good excuse that wouldn’t get Akira in too much trouble. Akira, meanwhile, pulled on the string that turned on the lights.

Paintings of Sayuri filled the room around him. All of Yusuke’s fear gave way to confusion as he realized that every painting in the room was the same-- the gently smiling woman looking into a grey cloud, the same painting that inspired him to become an artist. He had sent it to Akira, during their initial conversations about his modeling. Akira’s eyes widened in shock as he registered what he was seeing, before narrowing with determination.

“Sensei, what is all of this?” he asked, when Madarame entered the room. He was clearly furious, but Yusuke couldn’t find it in him to care while he stared at all the reproductions. Madarame sighed wearily, face drooping with sadness.

He launched into admitting to the forgeries, spinning a tale of debt and poverty. Madarame was so heartbroken by a previous student stealing his masterpiece “Sayuri” that it left him entirely unable to paint anything new, so he had to lean heavily on the generosity of his students. The copies of “Sayuri” were sold to provide for those students, to take care of his debts. He looked up at Yusuke sorrowfully to beg forgiveness for being so foolish.

“Please don’t…” Yusuke mumbled, throat tight with emotion. He was floored. Sure, they lived quite modestly, but he had never thought his master could be so tied down by debts as to stoop so low… Was he truly such a burden, to force the old man into that corner? For what, fresh art supplies? More than enough food to fill his stomach? He felt sick.

“So you paint them by memory? Or by the print in an art book? That’s a lot of detail to pick out of a small picture,” Akira asked, looking Madarame right in the eye. The old artist frowned at his story being questioned, but before he could retort, Akira pulled the sheet off the painting hidden on an easel next to him.

Yusuke gasped in surprise. That was the genuine Sayuri. He could feel it in his very soul. He had studied the image intensely as a small child, before it was “stolen” by a previous student. He gazed at it for a long moment before turning to Madarame again.

“Sensei, please explain,” he asked, and Madarame shrugged.

“It’s another reproduction,” he tried, and Yusuke slashed it down with his arm.

“No it is not! That is the genuine Sayuri! The very one that inspired me, that kept me going as an artist!” he argued, and Madarame glowered at him, his anger building into a full rage.

“It’s a counterfeit! I heard there was someone selling a counterfeit, so I bought it!” Madarame yelled, and Yusuke shook his head while Akira played with a curl. His eyes narrowed as he tilted his head.

“An artist buying a counterfeit of his own work? You can’t expect us to believe that, right?” Akira asked, his tone sharp. Yusuke’s head was starting to hurt as everything he believed about his sensei came crashing down.

“Stop lying, Sensei… Please tell me the truth,” he nearly begged, eyes focused on his master. The man who had raised him as a child, nurtured his talents for art, kept him fed and clothed and housed nearly his whole life. The man who had taken his works for his own name, and destroyed the lives of previous pupils. Which was the true version? It was too much to bear.

“So you would accuse me, too? Fine. I’ve reported you to my private security company! I set it up to deal with some paparazzi, but didn’t think it would be so helpful,” Madarame said, regaining his sense of calm while Yusuke balked and Akira went pale.

“Please, don’t! Let’s talk this through!” Yusuke demanded, fear making his blood run cold.

“You can talk all you want to the police… Including you, Yusuke.” Madarame firmly said.

He could hardly process the threat before Akira grabbed his hand and ran back out of the room. Yusuke barely registered Madarame calling out that the police would be there in a few minutes. He had no choice but to run with him, until they suddenly weren’t running anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the next chapter is gonna be really long, and after that I'm gonna focus a lot less on canon events and more on the between time for the phantom thieves, and these two gay boys budding feelings~


End file.
